


And Tonight We Can Truly Say Together We're Invincible

by brittyelaine



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode: s12e09 First Blood, First Kiss, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9491798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittyelaine/pseuds/brittyelaine
Summary: They’ll deal with the cosmic repercussions of what transpired last night eventually.  They’ll deal with it the same way they always do: head-on and full steam ahead.  But, just for now, just for these few quiet minutes of reprieve from the cosmos, they will ignore it and instead turn their focus on their world.  Their home.  Each other.





	

It’s quiet. The quietude used to be comforting to Dean, but after nearly two months of solitary confinement, he now finds it unnerving. Maybe one day that will change. Maybe one day he can again find solitude in the stillness and quiet moments of home. He’s restless; no matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to fall asleep. The events of last night are playing and replaying in his mind. An endless loop of confusion, sadness, and fear. 

He tries listening to music to calm his mind. A little Led Zeppelin usually does the trick, but halfway through _When the Levee Breaks_ , so does his resolve. He kicks away the covers and tosses his headphones to the nightstand as he sits up, scrubbing his hands over his face. He thinks briefly of breaking out the bottle of Rebel Yell in the bottom drawer, but thinks better of it. “Fuck,” he mutters. He doesn’t bother throwing pants over his boxer briefs. It’s the middle of the night, and everyone’s asleep. Besides, everyone living in the bunker has seen him in various states of undress at some point in his life.

Though the shift of the sun has no bearing inside the bunker, it always seems darker and more ominous at night. Shadows seem to stretch out endlessly beneath the dim fluorescent lights. The white noise sounds more ominous. He trails his fingers along the wall, taking the time to appreciate the texture beneath his fingertips. He finds his way to the library, his bare feet padding quietly on the cool concrete. Stopping in the archway, he closes his eyes and breathes in deep. He breathes in the bunker’s musty, recycled air. He breathes in the scent of the ancient books lining the walls. He breathes in the old wood of the tables and the shelves. He breathes in home. Thanks to the nagging feeling in the pit of his gut, though, home doesn’t quite feel like home. Inexplicably, he feels as if something is missing. 

There’s a faint rustling, and he opens his eyes. Cas is sat in the leather armchair in the corner, folded over on himself. His elbows rest on his knees, and his face is in his hands. His coat, Dean notices, is draped haphazardly over a chair at the nearest table. “Cas.” Dean’s voice is soft; tender. Cas looks up and drops his hands. Dean realizes he’s been crying. “Cas,” he says again with a sigh, sinking to his knee in front of the angel. “Hey.” He huffs out a quiet laugh. 

“Dean.” Cas’s voice is rough. He sounds emotional, exhausted, and emotionally exhausted. “Why aren’t you sleeping? You should be resting. You… you’ve been through a lot.”

“So’ve you,” Dean counters. He ventures a hand to Cas’s knee and sighs. “Look, Cas, what you did for us… for me… that--”

“I would do it again in an instant. I meant what I said, Dean. Every word of it. You…” He cuts himself off with an exasperated sigh. Fresh tears well in his eyes. “You mean the world to me. And you mean everything to the world. And I’m so… _tired,_ Dean. I’m so tired of you not seeing that. I’m tired of you _constantly_ sacrificing yourself as if it means nothing. Your death is not nothing. And it’s not _yours_. Your death happens to everyone else. It happens to… to me.”

“I know,” Dean whispers. His own tears now threatening to fall. He reaches up to grip Cas’s face in his hands. He shifts closer. He used to pretend he hated being this close to Cas. Up close, he can see all the shades that make up that breathtaking blue. “I know, Cas, and I’m sorry.” His thumb sweeps gently over Cas’s cheek. “I’m sorry. You--” He sighs and closes his eyes, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Cas’s. “You mean the world to me, too, Cas. I want-- I _need_ you to know that.” 

Cas’s arms are around him now, his fingers twisting in the material of his t-shirt. “Then stop,” Cas growls. “Stop trying to leave me.”

Dean kisses him then. He lets himself, before he has the chance to overthink it or back out. He lets himself have this one damn thing. It’s gentle and warm and perfect. It dawns on him then: it wasn’t enough to merely come back to this bunker and his kitchen and his possessions and his bed. No, this -- _Cas_ \-- was coming home. They’ll deal with the cosmic repercussions of what transpired last night eventually. They’ll deal with it the same way they always do: head-on and full steam ahead. But, just for now, just for these few quiet minutes of reprieve from the cosmos, they will ignore it and instead turn their focus on _their_ world. Their home. Each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a lyric from "Invincible" by Muse -- one of my all time favorites. 
> 
> I loved the speech Sherlock gave regarding death in "The Lying Detective," and I thought it so fitting for Dean. I decided to merge two of my beloved fandoms to help Cas drive his point home.
> 
> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr](http://brittywritesstuff.tumblr.com)!


End file.
